The place was Rollright Stones
\nAn ancient ceremonial site
\nThe weather was abysmal
\nSuch a leaden light
\nSubmerged us in the mists of time
\nWhere a Cotswold group of friends
\nWere indulging in a Smithsonian jaunt
\nWhich an icy vista sends<\/p>\n
It enveloped all our senses
\nThe rain and hail we found
\nThe winds came in on a northerly
\nFreezing up the ground.
\nA package of uniqueness greeted me
\nAs I
\nMet Clive James and the others
\nUnderneath a slate grey sky
\nCasting almost everything
\nDown on us, on that day
\nPerhaps except for thunderbolts
\nWhich seemed to stay away<\/p>\n
She gardens with an intuitiveness
\nAnd whittles with such ease
\nMakes dresses and confesses
\nThat doing that doth please
\nHer and she studies druidry
\nClearly a fountain source
\nOf ancient times and places
\nSuch a feminine force
\nFor good above all others
\nA forager to see
\nThe wherewithal to nature
\nWith stacks of empathy
\nEnlightened and perceptive
\nWith knowledge to adore
\nShe really has a splendid aura
\nOf that I am sure.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The place was Rollright Stones An ancient ceremonial site The weather was abysmal Such a leaden light Submerged us in the mists of time Where a Cotswold group of friends Were indulging in a Smithsonian jaunt Which an icy vista … Continue reading